The lobby of Windsor International was colder than I remembered.
Polished marble floors. Gold-plated logos. People in suits who didn't make eye contact. The air smelled of wealth and silent power.
James walked beside me like a man going to war — shoulders squared, jaw tight, every step deliberate.
He hadn't stepped foot in his father's headquarters in over three years.
Not since the day he walked out and vowed to build his empire without him.
Today, he was back.
Not as a son.
But as an enemy.
"You don't have to come in," he told me as we stood before the elevator.
"I'm not leaving you alone with him," I replied.
His eyes softened. "You're braver than me."
"No," I said quietly. "I just have less to lose."
We stepped into the elevator.
The doors closed.
And the past started breathing down our necks.
---
Johnathan Windsor's office was at the top. Thirty-four floors above the city, sitting like a throne room in a glass castle.
The secretary flinched when she saw James.
"Mr. Windsor is in a meeting—"
"He'll want to cancel it," James said, voice cold. "Tell him his heir has returned."
She looked between us, then disappeared behind the mahogany doors.
Seconds later, they opened again.
"Come in."
The room was exactly how I imagined it — minimal, intimidating, tasteful. Black and steel. A view of the skyline that screamed power.
And behind the massive desk, he sat.
Johnathan Windsor. James's father.
The man behind everything.
He didn't stand. Didn't smile. Just leaned back in his leather chair and laced his fingers together.
"Well," he said smoothly, "look who came crawling back."
"I didn't come to crawl," James replied.
"Then why are you here, son?"
James walked to the desk slowly, pulling out the journal and placing it down with a heavy thud.
"That," he said, "is why."
Johnathan glanced at the worn leather, uninterested. "What's this?"
"My past. Amelia's past. Your secrets. And her mother's truth."
Johnathan's face didn't change.
"I see."
"Do you?" James leaned forward. "Because in that journal are dates, places, payments — all connected to Eleanor Windsor and Sophia Moore."
Now his father's jaw clenched — only slightly. But it was enough.
"You've been digging," he said flatly.
"No," James said. "I've been remembering. And now that the pieces are in place, I'm giving you a choice."
Johnathan raised an eyebrow.
"Choice?"
"You give me every sealed document, every medical record, every wire transfer connected to their disappearances. You tell the board the truth. You admit what you did."
"And if I don't?"
James smiled without humor.
"I'll destroy you."
Johnathan laughed.
It was cold.
"I trained you too well, boy," he said. "You think the board cares about your mother? About some maid with a diary? You'll be laughed out of every office in the city."
I stepped forward then.
He hadn't even looked at me until now.
"And what about when I speak?" I asked, voice even. "What about when I tell the world I'm Sophia Moore's daughter? That I was adopted into a house that kept secrets while my mother suffered alone?"
His eyes flicked to me. "You'll sound ungrateful. Unstable. Emotional."
"Try me," I said.
And then I pulled out a copy of the journal from my bag — one James didn't even know I had made.
"I've sent this to four newsrooms already. One word from me and it goes public."
Johnathan stood now.
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?" I asked.
He walked around the desk slowly.
Stopped inches from me.
"You're not as smart as you think, Miss Blake. You've been played."
I tilted my head. "By who?"
He leaned in.
> "By your real mother."
That froze me.
James stepped forward. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Johnathan smirked. "Sophia wasn't the victim you think she was. And Eleanor… wasn't as innocent either."
"You're lying," I whispered.
"Am I?" he said, walking back to his chair. "Then ask yourself: why did Sophia Moore send her baby into my world? Why did she write down everything except who your father was?"
Silence.
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
"What are you saying?" I asked.
"I'm saying," he said, "that this little war you've started… is built on a lie."